Melissa
by One Nutty Tree
Summary: When Harriet's girlfriend dies Sherlock quickly discovers, much to John's irritation, that there's more to the death than meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was bored, which was never a good sign. John was fighting back an urge to run out of the flat but then poor Mrs Hudson would have to cope with the unruly detective. He was relieve when his phoned went off and quickly answered it.

"Hello?"

"J—John – " sobbed a voice.

"Harry? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"It's Melissa…s-she's dead."

"Oh my god." John gasped. Melissa was Harry's first serious girlfriend after Clara. They had been dating for almost a year. "Where are you?"

"A-at the police station."

"I'll be right there."

John hung up and started to put his coat on.

"Where are you going?" asked Sherlock.

"To see my sister."

"What's she done this time?" Sherlock sighed.

John glared at his flatmate.

"Nothing! Unless you think she's capable of murdering her girlfriend!" he snapped.

Sherlock's face lit up.

"Murder?"

John wanted to slap himself.

"I don't know. I'm going down to the police station to see her." Sherlock started to put his trench coat on. John supressed a groan. "If you're going to come please don't talk to her!"

"You worry too much John." said Sherlock. "Now are you coming or not?"

John wasn't quite sure how his flatmate had managed to get ready beside the door before him but it had happened. He sighed and nodded nonetheless.

It didn't take them long to get to the police station. When they arrived Lestrade walked up to them smartly.

"Hello Greg have you seen my sister?" John asked.

"She's just come out of the interrogation room." Lestrade informed him, pointing in Harry's direction.

"Thanks."

John hurried over to her leaving Sherlock and Lestrade together.

"How did the victim die?" Sherlock asked, not beating around the bush as usual.

Lestrade sighed.

"All evidence points towards a drug overdose – "

Sherlock groaned.

"Boring."

"-but her face was smashed in."

"Go on." said the detective, interest piqued.

Meanwhile John was busy trying to console his devastated siser. For the moment it simply meant a lot of hugging. John knew that it would get harder in the later stages of grief but for now this was what Harry needed. However his view over her shoulder meant that he could see the look of growing glee on Sherlock's face.

"Oh no." he muttered.

Harry broke away from him.

"What is it?" she sniffed.

"I think Sherlock may be interested in Melissa's death."

"Isn't that a g-good thing?" said Harry. "I-if he's as good as you say t-then maybe he could h-help?"

"Yes, but you haven't met him."

Sherlock began to stride towards the pair. John stood and went to meet him.

"Change of plan John, this case is promising. I need to talk to your sister."

"Sherlock!" John complained. "You promised!"

"No I didn't. I just said you worried too much, that I can promise."

He took another step towards Harriet but John barred the way.

"Fine but only if you let me do the talking." Sherlock tried to sidestep John but failed. "We can do this all day."

"Fine." the detective grumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

After a few minutes of bickering John rejoined his sister.

"Is it okay if I asked you some questions about Melissa on Sherlock's behalf?" John asked.

Behind him Sherlock groaned.

"Why are you asking her that? If she says no then I'll be back where I started!"

John turned to glare at his flatmate.

"And where's that?"

"Bored, in the flat."

"Sherlock why don't you go talk to the mortician and let _me _deal with my sister." John replied.

"Fine."

Sherlock humphed and started to walk away.

John took a seat beside Harry.

"Sorry about him."

"John it's fine. I want to find out who did this to her." Harry said in a determined voice.

"Okay, well first things first: who found the body?"

"Me." she replied.

John winced in sympathy. He was glad Sherlock wasn't here to make some inappropriate comment.

"Where was – "

"Toilets. She'd got a promotion at work so we went to get a drink in celebration."

"_You _went down the pub?" John exclaimed indignantly.

"Well we couldn't exactly have one at home where you clean out all my supplies once a week!" Harry snapped. "Don't lecture me John. How's this supposed to help anyways? The police have already asked me this."

John took a deep breath to calm himself and spoke.

"Sherlock isn't the police. You were the one who wanted his help."

"HIS help John not yours!" Harry shouted.

Her raised voice attracted a few curious stares.

"Okay then." said John, a new hardness breaching his tone. "When you're ready to talk go ahead. Just talk to Sherlock, not the bottle."

And with that he stood, turned on his heel and headed towards Lestrade.

"Hey John, Sherlock said you'd be done quickly."

"Of course he did." John muttered.

It didn't take a Sherlockian level of genius to know that any civil conversation between the patient doctor and his stubborn sister would last a total of approximately ten minutes.

"He said he'd be in the morgue when you needed him."

"Okay." John sighed.

* * *

"What harm is there in letting me see a body!?" Sherlock yelled.

"Well for starters I don't know 'oo you are." said the nervous mortician.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Are you new?"

The man nodded.

"Started las' week."

"Great! Fantastic! Where's Molly when you need her?"

"Sherlock what's going on?" John asked wearily walking into the morgue.

"Ah John nice of you to join us. This imbecile won't let me examine Melissa's body!"

"Oi!" exclaimed the mortician. "I already told you, I don't know 'oo you are!"

John stepped forward to defuse the situation.

"Hello, I'm John Watson." He held out his hand and the mortician reluctantly shook it. "My irritating friend is Sherlock Holmes."

The mortician visibly blanched.

"_Oh._"

Sherlock smiled.

"I take it you've heard of me?"

"Yes sir. Right this way sir."

The pair followed the mortician as he led the way through the depths of the morgue.

"You could've introduced yourself you know." John hissed.

"Why should I do it when you can do it for me?" Sherlock replied. "I take it you had no luck with Harriet."

"Nope." said John popping the 'p'.

"How many minutes did you managed this time?"

"Six."

"You're getting worse." she detective commented.

"I know. Can we focus on the case Sherlock?"

Sherlock sighed but changed subject.

"Did you at least ask her the questions?"

"I only had time for the one."

Sherlock groaned.

"Well what _did _you find out? Was this Melissa's first meeting with drugs?"

"Sherlock _I _could've told you that. Harry and Melissa first met at an addiction support group. We both thought she'd quit and if she hadn't we would've noticed. Melissa had an acquired taste - she used to take some quite serious stuff."

"Here we are gentlemen." said the mortician coming to a halt outside Melissa's morgue drawer. "I'll leave you two to it shall I?" said the man.

"Ta. We'll come find you when we're done." said John.

Sherlock pulled out the drawer as the mortician left.

"Well he was acting suspiciously." the detective remarked.

"Sherlock just because he didn't recognise you doesn't make him a suspect." John replied.

"That's not what I meant."

John folded his arms and gave Sherlock an enquiring look.

"Go on then."

"When you told him who I was he became instantly polite."

"So? Maybe he was embarrassed."

"If you are embarrassed you turn red not white." the detective dismissed.

"Well you've got quite a reputation Sherlock; maybe he was just being respectful."

"I doubt it. Did you see the way his shoulders were hunched?" he asked, mimicking the body language.

"Perhaps he was cold?" John supplied.

"No that's a clearly defensive stance and did you see the way he was fiddling with his jacket?" John nodded. The mortician had been seemingly unaware of it but had been painfully obvious to the onlookers. Even John had to admit that it had looked strange.

"If a detective makes him nervous then he is definitely hiding something." Sherlock announced and started examine the body. "The question is: what's he hiding?"

"Your guess is better than mine." John replied with a shrug. He tried to not look at the body. It was one thing looking at dead strangers but this case was a lot closer to home. He'd met Melissa. She was nice. She'd been just what Harry needed.

"John?" said Sherlock.


	3. Chapter 3

"What?"

"Look at her face." he commanded.

"No."

"Look."

"No! Why do _I _have to look at the corpse?"

"It's an experiment." Sherlock replied grimly. "Do you want to catch the killer or not?"

John sighed. He approached the drawer and glanced at Melissa's face. It was an ugly sight. Her eyeballs were squished like flies, yet still managed to stare blankly at the ceiling above. John wished he could close them but he did not want to touch the gruesome mess. One thing was for sure - her face was certainly smashed in.

"What's this meant to prove?" John asked, quickly looking away.

"If you didn't know that this body was Melissa's would you have recognised her?"

"Of course not, her face is smashed up." John replied.

"Exactly!"

"Huh?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but didn't deem John's grunt worthy of a scathing comment.

"Who identified the body?"

"Harry; she was the one who found her."

"How did she know it was Melissa if not from her face?"

"Her clothing. She probably had her wallet on her Sherlock."

"Hm." The detective parted what remained of Melissa's lips and ran a swab through her mouth. He took out a small jar and placed the swab in it. "Come on John!" Sherlock announced and strode out of the room.

John pulled the cover back over Melissa's body and pushed her drawer back in sadly before following his flatmate.

On the way out he waved at the mortician but the man didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on Sherlock. John frowned. As usual he came to the conclusion that maybe the detective was right. The mortician was definitely hiding something; he looked scared.

Sherlock strode up the stairs so speedily that John had trouble keeping up.

"Could you at least tell me where we're going?" he asked.

"Just up a floor. I need to use some St Bart's equipment."

John followed Sherlock obediently onto the floor above and quickly grabbed the comfiest seat. He knew from experience that they could be here for a long time.

Sherlock removed the jar from his coat and started to fiddle with the saliva he'd collected with the swab.

The detective kept a lot of strange things in his coat. This was a fact John had quickly become accustomed to when a rat once jumped out of his friend's pocket and ran off. At the time the man had simply remarked: "Oh. I forgot I had that in there." And had proceeded to hang up his coat. Another time poor Mrs Hudson had found fingers in his pocket.

John was promptly brought out of his reverie by the sound of his phone ringing.

"You going to answer that?" asked Sherlock without looking at him.

John picked up his phone and stared at the screen. It was Harry. He sighed. He was still annoyed at her for what she'd said earlier but considering the events of today maybe he should cut her some slack. He answered the call.

"Hello?"

"H-hey John! I was jus' won'drin', have you seen Muhlissa?"

John closed his eyes wishing he didn't have to deal with this. His sister sounded like she was completely hammered.

"Harry where are you?" he asked.

"The Rock'n Crow."

"Okay I'll be right there." He hung up. "I'll see you later Sherlock, I need to help Harry."

"Good luck." Sherlock said as John left the room.

Fortunately the Rock and Crow tavern wasn't too far from St Bart's. This was just as well because John knew his sister would never stay put. It tended to make her move more if he demanded otherwise.

He braced himself and entered the pub. Harry said a lot of things John liked to hope that she didn't mean. Tonight would be another one of those nights.

She sat on a stool at the front of the bar. John joined her.

"Hey Harry."

The bartender looked relieved that she had a sober companion.

"Do me a favour mate, don't let her drive."

"Will do." John replied before turning back to his sister. "It's time to go."

"'m not going without Muhlissa." Harry slurred.

"Melissa's already gone." John reminded her sadly.

"Buh she was righ' here!"

"Harry I know you don't want to hear this but Melissa is dead. Come on. I'll walk you home, I think you could do with the fresh air."

"'m not going 'nywhere!"

"Harry please. You can see Melissa in the morning."

John hated himself for saying that but he knew it was the only way he could get her to listen to him.

"'kay."

As Harriet stood and stumbled towards the door, John half supported her with his arm.

"On second thoughts maybe we should get a cab." he muttered.

By the time the pair got to her house Harry was on the verge of passing out and had thrown up twice. Once on John. Sometimes he wondered if she aimed for him on purpose.

He laid her on her side, placed a sick bowl beside her that he normally kept on standby for these instances and proceeded to the bathroom to clean himself up. He knew he should stay over tonight. Although Harry was unwilling to admit it, she needed him right now. She needed all the family she could muster and their parents were out of the question.

Sherlock had managed to figure out John's family dynamic out for fun after their first week of sharing the flat. It had not been so fun for John to have the detective figure him out just like that. Some things were meant to stay private, but of course with him they never did. He remembered that conversation only too well.

_"Sherlock."_

_"What?"_

_"You're doing it again."_

_"Doing what?" he said in the perfect tone of innocence._

_John rolled his eyes._

_"Staring. I'd rather you didn't analyse me in my own home."_

_"It's my home too."_

_"Go on, just tell me. I know you're bursting to go into monologue mode."_

_He had not known Sherlock for long but he was starting to recognise certain expressions. The resulting look of glee on the detective's face was as if he'd been bought a rocket ship for Christmas._

_"You have a bad relationship with your parents, they don't approve of you. Well, more likely they don't approve of your sister's sexuality. You stood her ground and have been doing so ever since they kicked the pair of you out of the house." Sherlock explained, at a break-neck speed._

_"How did you know that –" John began._

_"I'm not finished." the detective interrupted. "You managed to make it pretty well on your own and for a while you and Harriet were close but something happened. Something big, possibly to do with Clara? More likely to do with you becoming a soldier and leaving. Harriet's never forgiven you. Your new occupation however made your parents proud and they got back in touch. You told them you wanted nothing to do with them, ah but maybe Harriet misheard the wrong part of the conversation? She does tend to jump to conclusions – her drinking problem had developed a long time ago but she'd been hiding it successfully from you. When you left it got ten times worse and you came back home to find her in hospital after leaving Clara. Your conversations with all your intermediate family are now angry and brief except for with your uncle Jerry – "_

_"How –"_

_Sherlock ignored him._

_"- who sympathised with you and your sister. He was the reason you were able to live in a flat at the age of sixteen – "_

_"Sherlock."_

_"- he tried to have a word with – "_

_"SHERLOCK." John shouted._

_Finally his flatmate ground to a halt. _

_"What?"_

_"How did – "_

_"I figure it out? Hacked into your phone, not difficult to do." He sounded quite pleased with himself. "The rest was easy. I take it from your tone that my predictions are correct."_

_"Yes. Why did you feel the need to delve into my personal life?" John growled._

_"Flatmates should know the worst about each other. Anyways I was bored."_

And with that John had stormed off into his bedroom. They hadn't spoken until their next case, which was a few days later.


End file.
